


looking for a new direction (in an old familiar way)

by sirenofodysseus



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: F/M, Suburbia, Undercover, fake relationship trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: “O’Hara, did you just kiss me?”Juliet eyed him. “No Carlton,” she answered sarcastically. “I certainly didn’t just kiss you.” He blinked and she rolled her eyes at his behavior. “The chief asked us for believable. What married couple doesn’t kiss?”Set after S1.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter & Juliet O'Hara
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	looking for a new direction (in an old familiar way)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwasanartist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasanartist/gifts).



“Lassiter, O’Hara,” Interim Chief Karen Vick greeted her head detective and junior detective, as the duo stepped into her office. “Shut the door, please.” A little too gleefully Carlton Lassiter slammed the door in Shawn Spencer’s face, which left both women sighing. “Take a seat.” Both did so without comment, each curious about the closed-door meeting. “Sacramento Police Department has asked for our assistance on a case of theirs. I told them I’d send our best to assist.”

Lassiter smirked at the compliment, while Juliet O’Hara shifted under Vick’s stare. “You won’t regret this, Chief.”

“Is Shawn helping out?” O’Hara asked, which had Vick shaking her head. Lassiter let out a laugh, obviously overjoyed.

“No,” Vick answered. “This case involves a special skillset that Mister Spencer doesn’t quite possess.”

“And we do?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, O’Hara,” Lassiter snapped at her. “We are the best, after all.” He paused to glance at Vick. “So, what are we dealing with? Smugglers? Diamond thieves?” Vick said nothing to his guesses. “What could be more difficult than diamond thieves?”

“A double murder was committed over a fortnight ago in a sleepy little cul-de-sac,” Vick explained, after she had promptly ignored Lassiter’s ramble. “Sac P.D. questioned Daniel and Heather Randal’s neighbors, Amy and Matt Sanders, but neither of them was willing to talk.”

“You need us to go in and put the screws to them then?” Lassiter asked.

“Absolutely not, Detective!” Vick shot back. “We need you and O’Hara to go undercover to help catch the killer or killers.” O’Hara perked up at the word ‘undercover’, while Lassiter groaned softly. He absolutely loathed undercover assignments; someone always had to play the village idiot. He paused to glance at Vick.

“You sure Spencer can’t do this?” Spencer would make a great village idiot, after all.

“Are you turning down an assignment, Carlton?” Vick asked, surprise in her voice. Lassiter shook his head, after a moment of silence and Vick smiled briefly. “Wonderful. You’ll be playing the role of a married couple to catch the—”

“Married?” Lassiter asked.

“Couple?” O’Hara asked.

“I didn’t stutter, did I?” Vick questioned them, dryly. Neither detective said a word. “Now, here’s how this will work…”

::::

Opening the front door to 1233 Raven’s Way, almost a week later, Juliet allowed Lassiter to rest his hand at her hip as they surveyed their new home together; a two-story brownstone, graciously provided to them by Sacramento P.D.

Although the cul-de-sac was empty, Juliet still felt as though they were being watched so, she leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Lassiter, she realized with surprise, tasted of coffee.

“It’s perfect, babe,” Juliet told Lassiter with a wide grin. She knew he hated undercover gigs, but she honestly thrived in them; there was something about wearing another hat that appealed to her, even though Vick had warned her not to get ‘too involved’, before she had handed them their wedding bands. “When do the movers arrive?”

Lassiter glanced down at his phone. “About 4.” Juliet nodded and laced her fingers into his before she tugged him into the house. The moment the door shut behind them, concealing them from the outside world, Juliet let her partner go and he eyed her wildly.

“O’Hara, did you just _kiss_ me?”

Juliet eyed him. “No Carlton,” she answered sarcastically. “I certainly didn’t just kiss you.” He blinked and she rolled her eyes at his behavior. “The chief asked us for believable. What married couple doesn’t kiss?”

Lassiter crossed his arms against his chest. “Victoria and I don’t.”

Juliet let out a quiet gasp of surprise. “You don’t?”

“No.”

Juliet stared at him. Though she knew he was in the middle of a separation, thanks to the gossip at the water cooler, she figured there must have been _some_ kind of love between the two of them—once upon a time, at the very least. “What, O’Hara?”

“Nothing.” At that moment, her stomach growled, and she glanced toward the darkened kitchen. “Think we have any food in there.”

“Why don’t you go look and find out for yourself?” Lassiter shot back. Without another word to him, Juliet stepped toward the kitchen. Inside the modest little setup, complete with a stove, sink, refrigerator, and oven, she found nothing aside from a basket of wax fruit on the countertop. She frowned. Had Sacramento P.D. forgotten that they would need food? “Find anything?” She heard Lassiter call, after a moment of her opening cabinets and the refrigerator.

“Nope.”

She heard Lassiter sigh from the foyer, after a moment of silence. “Come on, O’Hara.”

Juliet tilted her head in confusion. “Where are we going?”

“To get you something to eat,” he answered. “Can’t very well have you collapsing on the job, now can we?” She heard him grab his car keys. “I’ll drive.”

::::

Unsurprisingly, Lassiter chose the restaurant nearest to them; something Juliet thought he did, because he wanted more intel than the one-sheet they’d been given by the chief. Ray’s Bistro was a quaint little eatery, about half-a-mile from the neighborhood, where the tablecloths were white cloth and wax candles were lit on every table.

Their server, Andrew, took their drink orders while Juliet held Lassiter’s hand atop the table. If Lassiter thought it was strange, he said nothing to her about it. She half-expected him to remain quiet, like he had during their speed dating debacle, but to her surprise, he kept the conversation going without once mentioning his love for weaponry or his hatred for Shawn Spencer.

“We’ll have to have a housewarming party when we’re all settled in,” Lassiter told her and she nodded, absent-mindedly. “It’ll give me a reason to use the grill.” Juliet said nothing, though she supposed the surprise showed on her face, as he followed his original comment with another. “I’m not going to burn the house down, Juliet.”

Lightly and with a smile, she responded. “I know you won’t, Carlton.” It felt so weird using his first name, but she knew she couldn’t call him _Lassiter_ in public—especially where people were around them. They’d been working together for almost eight months and aside from trivial things, she knew little about her partner. Shawn told her that Lassiter had a sibling and that his father had been absent for most of his childhood. However, she had no idea that he could cook. Or that he enjoyed doing so either. _Maybe,_ Juliet thought still smiling, _this will bring us closer as partners_. “I just can’t wait for our furniture.”

He smiled at her—a genuine one too—and her stomach flipped. “We’ll be all moved in before you know it.” He squeezed her hand lightly and she couldn’t help but continue smiling at him. Over dinner, Lassiter detailed his plans for the house quite loudly, as the couple behind them were none-other than Amy and Matt Sanders. Lassiter’s voice raised in volume as he detailed his desire for big, gaudy lawn ornaments on the outside and a man cave, which would ultimately be build in the basement.

Jokingly, Juliet suggested they have a family of pink, plastic flamingos only to be interrupted by Matt Sanders.

“Pretty sure that’s against rules and regulations,” the overweight man with the dark beard told them. “The Homeowner’s Association is a stickler when it comes to these types of things.” The petite brunette across from him, Amy Sanders, nodded. “I’m Matt, by the way.” He paused to gesture toward Amy. “This is my wife, Amy. We live at 1235.” Amy smiled plainly.

Lassiter smiled in response. “We’re your newest neighbors, Carlton and Juliet Lassiter. It’s nice to meet you both.” Juliet nodded in response, before Lassiter continued. “How does the association feel about grills?”

“Depends on the grill type, really,” Matt answered. “Why? What do you have?” Juliet was sure the answer out of Lassiter’s mouth was a lie, but Matt seemed impressed. “I’ve always wanted one of those, but my old lady won’t let me get one.” He stopped to roll his blue eyes, while Amy tilted her head.

“That’s because you’d spend more time in the garage than you already do.” Matt chuckled at Amy’s response and Juliet smiled at the couple, whose photographs they’d already seen thanks to the chief.

Lassiter chuckled. “Women, hm?”

Matt nodded. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “We should leave them alone, hun.”

Matt glanced to their half-eaten plates. “We’ll have to officially welcome you to the neighborhood. Amy can bake you a cake or something, can’t you?” Amy nodded, before she turned back to her plate of food.

Across from Juliet, Lassiter met her gaze.

If Shawn were here, he would have already gotten a read on their involvement.

::::

“One bed?” Lassiter asked O’Hara, later, as they got ready for bed. The movers had come and gone, leaving them with a fully furnished house in case Matt or Amy stopped by. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” O’Hara glanced to the bed and then at him slowly, as if not believing the situation either. “The couch they gave us isn’t even long enough to recline on! Let alone sleep on.”

Lassiter crossed his arms against his chest, unamused.

O’Hara offered him a smile. “Come on, Carlton. It’ll be like a slumber party.” Lassiter stared her down. What did she think he was? Five? He certainly wasn’t going to braid her hair or paint her nails. He was a grown man, for crying out loud. 

“I’d rather marry Spencer.”

O’Hara eyed him. “Where else are you going to sleep? The bathtub?” Lassiter considered it for a solid minute. “Lassiter!” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. O’Hara was right. The bathtub was no place for a grown man.

“Fine,” Lassiter reluctantly agreed. O’Hara grinned at him and he rolled his eyes. “Don’t get all emotional on me, O’Hara.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, partner,” O’Hara responded chipperly, which forced Lassiter to groan. He was going to regret this.

::::

“What made you want to become a detective?”

In the dark, Lassiter stared up at the ceiling as O’Hara continued to ask him question-after-question. He had considered feigning sleep, or at the very least, pretending he had gone deaf—but O’Hara’s relentless questioning made him regret ever agreeing to sharing the bed with her.

He heard her sigh deeply, before she asked another question. “Why don’t you like Shawn?”

Lassiter blinked into the darkness.

It was going to be a long night.

::::

In the morning, Juliet prepared the coffee while Lassiter prepared breakfast. Both remained quiet, as Lassiter worked the stove. Juliet wanted to break the silence with something, but they’d already had an awkward morning.

It wasn’t exactly either of their faults, but she had awoken to find herself spooned against Lassiter. Lassiter had obviously panicked, while Juliet kept blushing like a schoolgirl in embarrassment. She waited until Lassiter had his second cup of coffee, before she attempted to apologize again.

Lassiter held up his hand. “I’d rather forgot it happened, to be honest.”

Juliet nodded. She could do that.

Lassiter took another sip of his coffee before he spoke again. “We should visit Matt and Amy; see what they know.”

Juliet eyed him. “And say, how are you going to do that?” She tried to imagine Lassiter walking up with a smile. “You heard the chief. You can’t…”

“…put the screws to them, I know,” Lassiter responded, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t going to go over there, guns blazing O’Hara. I’ve got more tact than that.” Did he though? Blazing in with guns drawn was exactly his style and the fact he wasn’t suggesting it surprised her even more. “Again, we’re undercover. Carlton Lassiter, Head Detective, would burst in with his guns blazing,” Lassiter continued his explanation, as though he were explaining the weather. “Carlton Lassiter, the husband, however, has a dislike for guns. He’s quite the character.”

“So, what would the husband do?”

Lassiter smiled. “Why, he’d bake.”

::::

And bake he did.

::::

“We should be bringing you something,” Amy gushed, after O’Hara had rang the doorbell with a Bundt cake in hand. “You just moved in, after all.”

Lassiter waved her away. “It’s no problem at all, Amy.”

Amy beamed at him. “Would you both like a piece? Matt’s not home at the minute, so it’ll be just the three of us.” O’Hara and Lassiter both nodded, which had Amy leading them inside the two-story brownstone. Lassiter was unsurprised to see two cats lounging on the furniture, as the couple _screamed_ cat people after all.

“You have a lovely home, Amy,” O’Hara told the brunette, who continued to smile in response. Amy led them to the oak kitchen table, where she had them both sit down before she turned back to the kitchen island. Lassiter heard her rummaging around through a couple of drawers before he added his two cents in. 

“Yes,” Lassiter agreed. “a Beautiful home.” 

“You two are too kind,” Amy told them, before she sliced three pieces of the Bundt cake. “We’ve lived here for about five years now, and we love this little neighborhood.”

“Enough to kill?” Lassiter asked bluntly and Amy blinked. 

“Huh?”

“What he means to say is,” O’Hara answered. “We heard about your neighbors, Heather and Daniel Randal.” Amy lost her smile. “We’re so sorry for your loss. Were you both close?”

Amy stiffened. “I think it’s time for you both to leave.” Lassiter opened his mouth to further interrogate her about the deaths, but O’Hara kicked him underneath the table which had him grimacing at her. He had a feeling that if he could push just a bit more, he’d break her.

“I’m sorry, Amy,” O’Hara apologized. “We didn’t mean to upset you.” Amy sniffled.

“It’s just been a hard time.” O’Hara nodded at Amy’s response. “Heather is…was my best friend.”

“What happened to her?” Lassiter asked, which had Amy staring at him in surprise.

“Ignore him,” O’Hara replied. “It’s his way of showing condolences. _Honey_ ,” she kicked him under the table again. “Just because you watch the crime shows doesn’t mean you can solve every crime.”

Lassiter stared down O’Hara, while Amy blabbered on about her loss. Even Carlton Lassiter, husband, could solve crimes better than the next guy. He heard Amy sniffle again and he had to refrain from scoffing.

Maybe O’Hara believed her, but he certainly did not.

::::

Turns out, it’s not difficult to catch a killer in suburbia. It takes approximately one week and a ‘get to know you’ dinner to get the job done.

“I told you,” Lassiter told O’Hara, as he handcuffed Matt—who had killed his neighbors over a silly land dispute.

It’s everything else in-between that’s the difficult part for both O’Hara and Lassiter.

It’s sharing a bed together. It’s sharing every waking moment together. It’s also learning not be alone, after months-and-months of separation on Lassiter’s part. On O’Hara’s part, it’s about learning more about her closed-off partner – aside from the fact he is allergic to mint, loves civil war reenactments, and has a thing for guns.

When it’s over, O’Hara’s sad.

Lassiter’s fine, and so he thinks, _it didn’t change a thing_.

(But when she asks him if he wants a hug, weeks later, he almost wishes she would kiss him again too.)


End file.
